The Way Things Should Be
by StarSpangledSilence
Summary: Story of two boys as they go through life in the usual way, all rivals and curiosity and friends. Arthur is the perfect student, Alfred is the school's dork. They come together, grow apart, and end the way it was all supposed to be. USUK. Warnings inside.
1. I: Exposition of Life

**A/N: You don't have to be in band or know anything about it to understand this fic. It's just a new idea I've tried, I'm not so sure how it will end up.**

**Ideas are always welcome, and I will reveal right now... THIS IS USUK. Any other implications are lies, so please don't assume.**

**Now, Warnings: High School coming up. Bullying. Sex. Get used to it.**

Okay, so you've always heard how guys should open the doors for girls, and help them out, put your arm around them when they're crying? That's true. Because when a girl cries- she's a tragic heroine, a lost queen. You have to speak to her in a low voice, soothing murmurs until they stop. You spoil them a little.

That's how Arthur was brought have to take a little more if you're a man, you can't be so sensitive. If a girl cries, it's cute, but, Arthur...if _you_ cry, then you're a wuss, a little nancy boy that isn't shit.

"Stiff upper lip," his mother would chime at him. "Be strong."

And so the little Kirkland developed a sense of internal strength, never showed his tears, grew up perfectly independent. His dad would snap at his mum whenever she tried to coddle him- to cotton ball a cut on his plump, five-year-old knee, or hug him when he had tears in his eyes.

No, not that he was a little ruffian- the boy was a perfect gentleman. In Kindergarten, oh, wasn't he the little boy hearthrob of the class. Neatly cut, pale blonde hair, wide green eyes, a pale, pointed face with the most precious dimples. Simperingly sweet.

Was almost sick sometimes, how sweet and perfect he was.

**-USUK-**

"Mrs. Mayfield? May I open the door for you?" The small figure stumbled towards the doors and jerks both of them open, eyeing the French doors with distaste. "Bwoody Fwench people."

The little British accent makes the teacher melt, and she walks through holding her papers with a bright smile. "Really, Arthur, what a little gentleman!"

And Arthur would smile, dashingly. He was always perfectly composed.

Except for one day. A new kid walked into the classroom, and Mrs. Mayfield held his hand as she introduced him to the class. "Boys and girls, this is Francis Bonnefoy. He is an-"

"-excuzes-moi. It is pronounced 'Bon-_FWAH_." The boy looked up, smiling with brilliantly white teeth. The teacher blinked for a bit, surprised, and Arthur immediately hated the boy.

:...of course, sweetheart! I'm sorry. As I was saying, Francis is an exchange student from France! Isn't that exciting? His father has made some very generous donations towards out school. Let's all welcome him in!"

Politely as a group of Kindergarteners could, they clapped, and the elaborately dressed boy bowed, that flashy smile on his face. Arthur wanted to punch him.

It turned out that Francis came out sitting at Arthur's table- perfect, of course. What was Mrs. Mayfield thinking, honestly? How could she place them next to each other when she knew his dislike of the French-

"Salut~ You are Arthur?" The slightly deeper voice, trickling with traces of that perfectly revolting French accent, appeared by his side. Arthur grit his teeth and kept on cutting out his butterflies with his little safety scissors with rubber edges.

The boy came closer. "I asked you, is your name Arthur? Do you speak not English too?"

No, it's you that doesn't speak English, Arthur wanted to tell him. The proper English, the Queen's English! Mrs. Mayfield, he could forgive her precious Texan accent because of her sweet disposition and bright smiles. But this frog?

Francis was ignored yet again.

No on ignored Francis.

The French boy impatiently yanked the paper butterfly out of Arthur's hands- there was a ripping sound-

Arthur stared at him. The bright green colour darkened. He lunged. "Bloody fwog! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Go back to where you came from!" The two boys tumbled to the ground, and Mrs. Mayfield stared on in shock. Never had Arthur behaved in such a manner. She rushed over and prised them apart, where Arthur was sniffling, now, and Francis looked like he was too much in shock to be doing anything but staring.

When going home that day, his satchel swinging against his short, plump legs, Arthur worried. A red envelope was in that satchel, to be given to his guardians as soon as possible. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten in trouble, even. His head hung as he trudged on through their little kissing gate, the white picket fence brightly painted and gleaming in the sun. The door opened.

"Arthur! Arthur- why, what's happened?" His mother frowned, closing the door after her son.

Another click, as Mr. Kirkland entered the room. Arthur started to cry.

**-USUK-**

First day of sixth grade. Yes, Arthur was a big boy now, at eleven years old. His hair was a bit messier than it was from kindergarten, those thick eyebrows had grown outrageously large, and he was quite a bit taller. Otherwise, nothing much had changed. Primly, the pale-skinned male stepped out of his house, school bag still rather large for his slender frame: it lay against his knees. The near autumn wind in Texas was crisp, cold even, and the British boy wondered why he hadn't perhaps brought a scarf out.

Across the street, and onto the light pole, where another girl was already waiting. She was cute- but really quite geeky looking, if a sixth grader could be geeky looking. Seeing Arthur make his way down the street, she gave a shy wave, then returned to reading from her iTouch, two short red pigtails drooping from her head. Arthur didn't even have time to smile back.

It was one of those awkward moments, as Arthur took a seat down at the cold pavement and set down his book bag and clarinet. Only when the sun rose beyond the pale horizon did a loud screech startle the two of them, and the cranky yellow school bus pulled into sight. Arthur gathered his things, and stood aside for the girl. "Ladies first," he offered, waving a hand that was not holding his clarinet.

Geek girl giggled and scampered on, with Arthur following shortly after. A few faces he knew, and a few new ones- all of them sat in their best clothing, nervous, or excited. The bus driver, a fatherly looking man with salt and pepper hair, smiled. "Mornin, son."

Small, barely post-elementary kids peeked over the tops and sides of grey leather bus seats. Eigtth graders who felt like they now owned the school and were at the top of the food chain openly stood up and gawked for any worthy younger ones.

"Good morning." His British accent caught the attention of many girls, as he made his way down the aisle. There was a scrambling- handbags and purses were scooted out of the way, people sat closer to the window- and Arthur plopped down into an empty seat, bag on the floor, clarinet in his lap. The doors closed, and they were driving on. Arthur's green orbs moodily gazed out across the landscape, to his house, to the street and the light pole they just left, a couple of trees changing colour, and a kid running-

"WAIT! I...I SAID WAIT!" The Briton curiously peered over. Another blonde kid was racing down the street from the direction the girl came from, the opposite direction of him. His hair flopped all over, his gold-rimmed glasses flashed in the sun and threatened to slip off his face. A large bulk was in his hands, but it didn't make him any less fast. The bus driver hadn't noticed yet and kept driving, and in desperation, the kid grabbed on to the emergency handle at the back and tried to leap on. "W...WAIT!"

Giggling, whispering. The older students at the back were laughing. "Sir!" Arthur stood up. "Sir, stop the bus! There's another student."

Screech.

The kid trudged up to the front of the school bus, and the doors hissed, and opened up. The blonde boy staggered on, and many kids stared.

He was not dressed his best. He couldn't be. Worn out, faded jeans with a rip at the knee hung loosely around his legs, and running sneakers were at his feet. His glasses seemed way too big for his face, there was a pimple on his forehead, there were a row of braces around his teeth as he smiled at the bus driver, and his large Superman T-shirt didn't change the fact that you could see his lanky frame. When he walked down the aisle, many people scooted the opposite direction. Arthur wordlessly sat there, staring out the window. He felt the pressure as the stranger sat down by him, and the bus roared to life again.

They drove on. Vaguely, Arthur wondered about his teachers, wondered if he'd make any good friends this year. Then...a tap at his shoulder, and he was looking at a large, dorky smile. "Hi! You look like a sixth grader too. What's your name? I'm Al. Well...I'm Alfred. But you can call me Al! My parents do." A hand stuck itself in Arthur's rather bemused, surprised face.

Gingerly, the British boy slipped his fingers out of his sweatshirt pocket, wiped them on the fabric of his expensive skinny jeans before shaking Alfred's. Or, rather, had his hand pumped enthusiastically up and down. "I'm Arthur. You can call me Arthur. My parents call me Arthur." He had an air of finality in it, and turned back away to stare out the window.

"Ha! Fancy old name and an accent. You're one of those people! Like...British! Like Harry Potter." Alfred leaned over and tried to get a better look at Arthur's face, his large backpack nudging against Arthur's shin. The poor English boy felt trapped against the side of the bus. It was August still, and the air was humid. Maybe cooler than usually, but easy to heat up as the other, taller boy scooted over.

Arthur finally looked over, annoyed. "May I help you?" The American, so called Alfred, grinned. It seemed too big for his face, stretching the light sprinkle of freckles that were dusted across his nose and cheeks. Dirty blonde hair, ratty, covered his forehead and hid what Arthur suspected were more pimples. He had a pretty bad case of acne in contrast to Arthur's expanse of pale, unblemished skin. Light blue eyes, friendly and curious and overeager, glistened out of that face.

"Yeah! You could tell me a bit more about this place. I moved here this summer, this little ol' town is better than I thought!"

Arthur shrugged. "There's not much to tell. It occasionally snows in the winters. Cold winters, too. The Autumns are nice...Summer, on the other hand, is perfectly unbearable." The weather was a good way to end any conversation, wasn't it?

"Oh...that's pretty much the same as it was back home. Have you heard of any teachers yet? Hey! We can compare schedules!" An air of delight covered his words as the boy reached for his backpack and dug out a grimy piece of paper. Arthur looked down, disdainful, then curious.

"...you play a saxophone?" A large black case was also by his backpack, which had caused Arthur to see it as huge. Alfred stared at him, then shook his head once seeing the clarinet on Arthur's lap.

"Me? Sax? Nah! I play...the mighty trumpet!" The American made his hands go up into the air in front of his face and posed. "Best instrument, man. Oh...but you're a clarinet? That's cool."

Arthur shrugged. "It's the only one that really appealed to me. Have you played before?" The shorter boy pulled his slender legs up onto the seat, getting comfortable if they were going to talk.

"No. You haven't either, from the looks of it. We'll be in Beginner class together, then- schedules! Get yours, Art!" Alfred opened up his, folding back his locker combination. "I have beginner band first period."

"As do I. If you call me Art again, I will have to hurt you." Arthur's fingers riffled through his neatly packed things, and pulled out a crsip sheet. "I have Band. English. Social Studies. My lunch period. Math. Science. Study Hall. Goodness, what a pain, Math right after lunch..."

Alfred snatched the paper with an air of glee. "We have classes together! Dude...look at this...Band...Social Studies...Lunch...Science...this is awesome! You can show me to these places. I missed the orientation. I was taking my dog to explore the new neighborhood." Arthur had a feeling this would never end, and before Alfred could start ranting about his dog, he cleared his throat.

Arthur abruptly snatched it back but shrugged. "Alright." He tucked his paper away and tried once more to end the conversation, as he could see the school come into view. But he felt another tap on his shoulder and groaned a little.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Artie?" Alfred's saphiric orbs were serious. Arthur was too shocked to comment on the nickname.

"I...I...no. Do you?" Arthur couldn't imagine this pimpled, clumsy trumpet player getting a girl.

"Yeah! She's a real hottie too." Alfred winked as the bus stopped, and the doors swung open. His trumpet and backpack were already in his hand and on his shoulder.

"Really?" Arthur looked after him with wide eyes. He'd never had a girlfriend before, and the most he'd ever done was hold Miss Mayfield's hand at their Kindergarten graduation. Frantically, he collected his book bag and clarinet, following Alfred off the bus and into open air, walking with him to the building.

"Nope." The American couldn't stop laughing, somehow. Arthur turned, stepped hard on his foot, and stormed off towards the new junior high.

**-USUK-**

Somehow, even through the thick crowd of people, Alfred managed to stay by Arthur's side like an incredibly annoying lapdog. He seemed shy of all the people at this new place, not knowing anyone yet, not knowing where to go. Arthur felt much too polite to tell him to piss off and go away. Not meaning, of course, that Alfred didn't talk. No, as shy as he might have been, he chattered away, about everything and anything, and Arthur half listened while trying to find the Band Hall.

"-so then I said, I said, "He'd never take that offer! That's a bad deal and heroes don't take bribes!" like a total boss, right? And get this-_ he totally jumps down in front of me _and he threatens to punch my face off! Always something weird about them-" Alfred had not stopped the entire time, and so Arthur tapped on the arm of a girl waiting in front of the attendance office. She was a good head taller than himself and he hoped that she was at least a seventh grader.

She looked down, showing a wide smile and light hazel eyes. "Hey, can I help you?" Her light brown bangs were pinned out of her face with a flowery pin and she radiated helpfulness.

"Yes, miss. If you could show us to the band hall? I'm Arthur Kirkland, this is my...friend Alfred. We're new here." Indeed, Alfred had even stopped talking by now and kind of stood behind him, offering a little awkward smile at the girl.

The girl gushed a little. "Aww, you two! Hello, Arthur." She reached out and they shook hands, then she turned. "And hello, Alfred..." She held out her hand again, and when he slowly stuck out his as well, she pulled him in for a full hug. "Don't be shy. Come with me. I'm Elizaveta, but who can remember that? I'm Lizzie." She started heading down the right end of the hallway, and Arthur shrugged at Alfred.

"Come on then. That looks heavy," he noted, of Alfred's trumpet. The American boy wasn't exactly strong looking, he was skinny. Not slender, as Arthur was, but just bones, it seemed. But that was made up for by his height, and his enthusiasm.

"Nah! This is nothing. I can hold lots more! Want me to hold the clarinet too?"

Arthur sniffed a bit, holding his clarinet closer. "William is fine with me, thank you. He doesn't like strangers-"

"_You named it? And you named it William?_" Alfred looked like he was going to laugh as Arthur cradled his small black case to his chest. "What kind of a weird..."They seemed to have reached a corner of the school, and they followed Lizzie. She was shaking her head at something.

"Don't judge me, Alfred. William is very precious to me. We've been through very much together. More than _you'll_ ever go through with anyone!"

There was a snicker. "That sounds really suggestive, Art-"

"-you're a trumpet player, aren't you, Alfred?" Lizzie hadn't even turned around, until then, when she opened a heavy door and smiled at them. "You act exactly like they do. Immature, annoying, and extremely cute. Now go get them!"

Before Alfred could reply, she disappeared inside the room, and Arthur caught it with his foot. It was a good thing that Vans had thick soles. "Let's go, Alfred." He held the door open and they stepped inside to the large room, the room that would soon change their lives. Unconsciously, Alfred's hand crept onto Arthur's. With a sigh, the Briton let him have it.

**This is the first chapter! **

**Important points:**

**~Alfred is out of character right now? It's an AU, and Al is my character! I promise it'll get better.**

**~They'll get much closer the next chapter. This is kind of just the exposition and setting out the background.**

**~Typos? Mistakes? suggestions? Tell me what to do in a PM or review. Thanks!**


	2. II: Sparks

**EDIT: I am back from Europe, filled with life-changing knowledge. Learned many things, insulted many people, puzzled many French people. So I've taken the time to edit some of this chapter and add to it. So many thanks to the people who've added this/me to their favourites or subscriptions, and more to those who have let me know what they think about this.**

**I'm one of those uncertain young writers with hapless traits and each notification still means the world to me. **

**_Chapter Two _**

It became that after a couple of weeks- well, Arthur began to feel a protective sense over Alfred. The boy was so _clueless_ and so _hyper_, almost like babysitting, or looking after an incredibly cute and dangerous creature. When he got picked on in the lunchline, the Briton would feel the need to go up to him and awkwardly defend him.

Not that Alfred felt like he needed it. He was, after all, a 'hero', who secretly saved the world from all its troubles during his free time. He could stand up to the star football player on his own, of course he could! Arthur had to pull him away and apologize profusely for that one, and even still, Alfred recieved a black eye that lasted a couple of weeks. He could go up to the eighth grade cheerleader and get a date if he wanted to, without getting people to laugh at him. He could definitely try out for the top band.

Yes, he was a dork, and not the most attractive dork. but he had spirit!

Arthur thought it was pure, thick-headed stupidity. Alfred tried so hard to be someone and to stand up to all these people. So hard, that, he never once thought about the consequences until they happened. Or until Arthur stopped them from happening. It was that year that Arthur became like an adopted older brother.

Alfred had a bad case of acne, to be honest. Maybe it was just that he was always out in the sun, always sweating and playing and working his heart out. He was clumsy, being that much taller than most people, and not really accustomed to using that height. He wore glasses that seemed too big for his face, even with the hints of puppy fat that remained from the childhood that had only just left the train station. He was not a master of conversation or good with his words. His blonde hair was seemingly too long and shaggy and sometimes covered his eyes, his mouth was too big and too loud and he never read the atmosphere, never said the right things. All in all, he was not the dream boyfriend, best friend, acquaintance.

They met a few others though. Kiku was a great comfort of Arthur's during Band class, and during lunch. The flute player was very quiet, intelligent- hard-working and insightful. It was really wonderful to have breaks from Alfred sometimes, Arthur would think, then guiltily return to Al's side. It was with Alfred that he did his homework, he went to birthday parties with, discussed serious or not so serious topics with. Arthur was the one that Alfred invited to his first sleepover of the year, and as they licked their ice cream cones by the edge of Alfred's pool, the English boy had felt so guilty for his wishes of another best friend that he'd given Al his own cone.

"Wow, thanks, Arthur! You sure you don't want it?" They were both sitting by the edge of the peanut shaped pool with their feet dangling in the cool water, and the sun had caused the cream to melt the treat so fast that even Arthur dripped some. He handed his cone over.

"Help yourself."

Alfred took the melted cone from his hand and gobbled it up, relishing in it. Specks of cream splattered about his mouth. Arthur shook his head, smiling a bit at the childish behavior, and gracefully slipped into the pool to do a few more laps. All Alfred really wanted to do was play around; it meant that Arthur was also meant to play around and had no time to really swim. Swish...the water sloshed around his form, and yes, a pool really was very refreshing in the summer. Especially since it was outside. His own pool wasn't half so real, so exciting or alive. He finished one lap and turned, only to find that the American wasn't licking his fingers by the edge anymore. Where had he...

"Aaaaaagh!" Arthur's head was forced underwater and he swallowed a lot of extremely bitter water. He felt Alfred's skinny legs straddling his shoulders, and quickly flipped around, sliding under. It was then, with the bubbles blubbering around him in the pool, that Arthur realized Alfred wasn't really as weak as he looked. Clear blue with little crystal shimmers of sunlight on the surface, so far...he hit the bottom and kicked up, bursting through that film of water, coughing and choking. Water came out, bitter. Alfred was by his side, arm aorund him, guiding him to an extra set of steps at the opposite side. The smaller boy clung on to him, shivering, body weak from asphyxiation. Alfred rubbed at his back and stayed by his side til he stopped coughing his heart out. "You...git."

"Really, Alfred, that wasn't very nice. How would we explain to his parents if we'd killed their precious boy, now?" Alfred's mother stood at the back porch, hands on her hips. She was a motherly woman, with soft blonde hair and denim dresses and a wide, natural pink smile. So unlike his own mother, Arthur would note every time. Alfred jumped up in the water, splashing everywhere, and waved.

"Hey mom! Did you see us? Wasn't I cool, flipping through the air like that? Like I could fly, huh!" Alfred's eyes sparkled, his shaggy blonde hair clinging to his skin, his face still young and so excited. It really made Arthur wonder how anyone could have that much energy.

"Hello, Mrs. Jones. It's no trouble really." Arthur climbed out of the water, brushing paler blonde hair out of his eyes. "He's done so much worse."

Mrs. Jones laughed and shook her head, coming forward to whap her son around the legs with the towel, making him yelp and fall back into the water. "I'll get him for you, Arthur." Her soothing Texan accent laced her voice, and Arthur liked her. She was so friendly, almost more motherly than his own mother. Alfred leapt out from the water again, and Mrs. Jones rushed forward and head-butted him back in. Arthur winced. It looked painful, but Mrs Jones was laughing, and so was Alfred, after he finished laughing. What a strange family.

**-USUK-**

Dinner had passed so easily, even though both Alfred's parents were there. It was like they were only two more teenagers, playful enough but responsible. Mr. Jones senior would keep on asking why Arthur didn't take more of the pizza rolls, teasing his wife's cooking if he didn't take another. Mrs. Jones made Arthur tell her his favourite drink and went out to buy some just for him. Alfred kept stuffing food in his mouth so mesily that Arthur didn't feel bad if he dripped tomato sauce onto the carpet. And then it was eleven, and the boys were watching movies, Toy Story Three had Arthur crying. Alfred slipped a clumsy arm around him and made jokes about the story and trolled until Arthur was laughing again.

The British boy didn't have to hide his tears here. A smile slipped onto his face, and he wiped his eyes with the back on his hand, settling around to watch the next movie. Alfred's arm, however, stayed around, trailing down through the movie to rest around his waist.

Yeah, Arthur thought, eyes drooping. Alfred had acne and bad hair and bad social skills and was clumsy. But he really was a sweet kid.

**-USUK-**

It was one in the morning, and both boys were in Alfred's room. Their own sleeping bags had proved to be much too hot, so the thermostat was turned down and the ceiling fan was whirring loudly with exersion. They were both sprawled across Alfred's bed, which was queen size and certainly large enough for a recently-turned eleven year old and a nearly twelve year old. The rocket-ship covered sheets, Arthur decided, were extremely comforting.

Alfred's walls were covered with trashy posters of Spiderman and Superman and whoever else there was. Oh. Batman too, Alfred just worshipped him. Action figures and old scraps of doodles littered the area along the desks, comics and novels were piled on the sleves and nightstands. The American flag proudly stood up by the window, so Alfred could say the pledge first thing in the morning on weekends too.

"Your turn," Alfred croaked. His voice was cracked and dry because they'd been playing Truth or Dare for an hour now, and though they were both desperately thirsty, neither boy was volunteering to go get them a glass. Alfred was apparenly half asleep, and wasn't thirsty, but Arthur was afraid of the dark and he was the guest. So they laid there thirsty and dead tired. "Truth or dare?"

Alfred sounded like an adult in the dark like that, voice so low. Arthur gave a quick shiver. "Dare."

"I dare you to go get us some wa-"

"-I meant, truth." Arthur mustered up enough strength to glare at the lone blue eye he saw in the dark. Alfred had very bright eyes, actually. Arthur's brain sleepily registered how pretty the colour was, saphiric and oceanic. There was a rustling sound, and then a creaking sound.

"Ugggh."Alfred staggered up, vision dizzy without his glasses. "Uh. I'll think 'bout it while I get water." Arthur, too worn out to argue after swimming, and running, and crying, just shifted aside and waited. Alfred stumbled out the door and Arthur heard the steps downstairs.

Alfred had a pretty comfortable house. It was reasonably big, like all Texas houses, and had a different colour scheme for almost every room. Turned out that he had a brother, a year younger, still in elementary. Arthur couldn't recall his name... Mark, Manny...something... The glow-in-the-dark stars on Alfred's walls winked at him, and Arthur yawned, eyes drooping.

Comfortable waves of sleep tried to bring him under, as Arthur laid there, but then he heard tinkling sounds. One green eye cracked open to find a light on in one of the smalll rooms- "Alfred Jones! Where's your Manners? Close the bloody door when you're going to _take a piss_!"

The sounds continued, then there was a flush and then Alfred appeared with the glass of water. "Wash your hands," Arthur commanded, but he was too thirsty to care, really, as he accepted the glass and downed half of it in seconds. Holding it out to Alfred for the other revealed that the American had already drank two more glasses downstairs, so he drank the rest of it too. They both sat in the dark. "...did you think of my question?"

"Yeah. I got a good one." Arthur silently wondered what 'a good one' was after questions like 'What's your favourite colour?' or 'Have you ever wet your pants?' "Have you ever liked anyone? Like..._like_ liked anyone?" Alfred seemed to be wide awake again.

Arthur had to scoff at the childish language. "You mean if I've ever fancied anyone in a romantic way," he curtly corrected. "And my answer to you will be that no, I have not. That was a stupid question."

"Was not." Alfred thought about it for such a long time that Arthur had to poke him with his foot. He was warm and squirmed at the contact.

"Why, do you like someone? Who is it? Is it Lizzie?" That girl with the long nut-brown hair had become close friends with Alfred, actually. Maybe because they both played trumpet. But still, Arthur kind of doubted he'd have a chance with her.

"No, girls have cooties." But he was joking. They were in the age that girls were cool again. "There are no hot people at our school. So I'll just hang out with you." Alfred's big grin was sunny enough to be seen through the darkness.

"So you'd leave me for a hot girl?" Arthur hoped he didn't sound as offended and prissy as he thought he did. He rolled onto his stomach and looked at Alfred.

"Bros before hos, Artie..." There was a yawn, and then Alfred was just trying to string words together, not make sentences. Arthur left him alone.

"Sleep tight." The two blondes eventually nestled together and hurtled into sleep. Alfred's arm draped over his best friend again, naturally, and the slender sleeping form shifted.

**-USUK-**

Alfred stared at the male in front of him, a bit freaked out. No, that had a pretty bad connotation, didn't it? He was more...excited.

_About what_? he asked himself.

The other blonde lifted his captivating green orbs and cooed out soft promises, and Alfred opened his arms to let him in. He didn't know this person, and they were in a voidlike world, so this was okay. Their skin to skin contact sparked and melted, and those green eyes were getting closer, those long eyelashes, a few freckles... It was okay.

It was more than okay. No one was there to see them, and he tasted those gloriously soft lips, the velvety breath melting against his own, and the two blondes shifted and slipped their lips around until they found a better position, heads slightly tilted to fit together. Sparks flew in Alfred's vision, he pulled the smaller, somehow familiar form closer so that they touched. Those smoky, verdant orbs were seductive, and next thing Alfred knew, their mouths were open.

Curiously, he poked his tongue inside, probing naturally and brushing against the other. The soft slicking sounds slipped through and filled the air, and for a minute, Alfred let himself enjoy the strange feelings that he never let himself think about during the day. Then it grew heavier, and then it was too hot and Alfred's eyes opened. Those thick lashes caught his breath, but then he saw that familiar curve of that delicate nose, those...eyebrows...

He gasped. Freaking...that was Arthur, his best mate. And this was just pure messed up, and Alfred jolted awake, yelling in shock when he found the face in his dreams peacefully sleeping inches away from his own. With a long groan, Arthur, too, woke up. "Can I 'elp you?" Those eyes from his dreams weren't smoky and seductive now. Rather, pissed off.

Alfred's heart still pounded, but when he saw that the time was only seven in the morning, he shook his head and flopped back onto his pillow. Arthur saw, grumbled, and went back to sleep.

**-USUK-**

They all got in Mrs. Jones' comfortable pickup after a hearty meal of freshly made waffles and raspberries from the Jones Family Garden (a little patch of soil in the back yard). Arthur had never eaten so much in his life and he was feeling wonderfully content at the moment. Until the fact that they were all going to send him home registered in his brain. They were already well on the road. Alfred was singing along to the radio in the background, and Mrs. Jones was humming along good-naturedly.

"Mrs. Jones, madam?" Arthur leaned in to the seat in front of him. "It's fine, really-"

"-could have had it alll...! Rollin' in the dee-" The high note cracked.

"Really, you could just drop me off at that bus stop, we don't have to go to my house...there is fine...thank you...I mean-"

"-fire, startin' in my heart-" Alfred was promptly silenced with a piece of gum that his mother tossed at him, which he eagerly unwrapped and popped in his mouth.

The woman turned back to Arthur, her thick blonde hair falling over her shoulder. "It's really no problem, dear. We'll take you to the house, and I'll have Alfred help you carry your stuff, alright? Free of charge." The light changed then, and she turned back to the wheel. Arthur sat back against the seat, a bit worried.

Alfred turned to him. "What's up?" Spit flew onto Arthur's face, and he wiped it off automatically, used to worse treatment from sitting with the boy at lunch.

"Nothing. I thought you were covering Adele?" Alfred's voice wasn't as terrible as it could have been, for a guy that was clearly close to puberty. Arthur gave him a half approving smile.

Alfred blew a bubble with his gum and popped it, giggling at the popping noise. "Nah. I don't cover. Well...except with Beth here." He patted the car seat next to him. Arthur stared.

"You, erm, named your car seat. Beth."

"No, stupid." Alfred pushed up the seat to reveal a secret compartment, and pulled out his trusty trumpet case. "_This_ is beth. The car seat is Charlie."

"I thought you were against naming instruments!" Arthur clutched William to his chest accusingly.

"Not anymore! I love Beth with all my heart!" The American gave the case a big wet kiss, much to his mother's amusement and Arthur's half disgust and jealousy.

"I thought I was your best mate? Not the piece of shiny metal?"

Alfred gasped mockingly and hugged Beth to his chest as well. "It's okay, girl, he don't mean it, baby. It's okay."

Beth stayed silent.

**Okay, so I got tired of writing. But I definitely editted and added to this chapter! Enjoy and let me know what you think! **

**Thank you for reading.**


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